TIENNE

Today, you were a bit of a miserable mess. After hours upon hours of studying, after almost entire weekends in cram school, you failed a practice test. Completely bombed it, in fact. Seeing the big fat F on the top of your paper had made you so whole-heartedly angry at yourself that you had been moved to tears right in the classroom. You excused yourself to the bathroom to cry within the limited privacy of one of the bathroom stalls. Having a good cry helped, but the occasional flash of the smiling faces on the back of your hand only made you more aware of how upset you were.

It was childish, but you defaced them both. The smiling faces were scribbled over with hard, bitter frowns. It didn’t help. In fact, you felt worse after -- but the response from your soulmate was almost immediate.

A phone number appeared, following the curvature of the sunshine. There was a brief moment of awe as you stared at the numbers. You and your soulmate had never exchanged numbers. Your parents heavily discouraged you from trying (“You won’t get into medical school if you’re focusing on your soulmate!”) and your soulmate never tried to offer other means of contact.

As you stared at the number, more markings started to fade into existence on your skin. A thick vine of flowers snared the length of your arm, coiling about your forearm and bicep lazily. The flowers were big, and pretty. They looked like sunflowers. Then daisies. Roses, too. Throughout the remainder of the day, different flowers would crop up and your mood made a drastic shift for the better...

Until you had to sit through a hefty lecture from your parents. They discussed the idea of more cram school time, more study time, tutoring, and by the end of the discussion your heart was starting to feel heavy again.

Once they went to bed and you were tucked away in the safety of your room, you finally - finally - pulled out your phone, and typed in the number written on the back of your hand.

A text to start things off, just to break the ice...

Sorry about—

Delete.

That was rude of me earlier I—

Delete.

I’m sorry—

Delete.

Wow. What were you supposed to say? Your hands were shaking.

Hi

Send.

You almost shrieked when your phone started to ring. As a knee-jerk reaction you accepted the call, and then just sat there, stunned. There was silence on the other end.

“Hello?” You asked, hating how weak your voice sounded.

“Hey there!” His voice was bright, like the sunshine on the back of your hand. You had been miserable for the majority of the day, but hearing his voice made you want to cry for an entirely different reason.

Your voice wavered as you replied, “Hey…”

“Aw, hey, what’s wrong?”

“It’s dumb—“

“Now I doubt that. If it's got you upset, it’s gotta be important, right?” When you responded with a sniffle, he continued, “Hey, do you know how to cut an ocean in half?”

Swallowing thickly, you replied, “How?”

“With a seasaw!”

You snorted inelegantly, if only because the joke was so dumb. You swiped a tear from your cheek.

“Aw come on, I thought that was a good one.”

Another sniffle, another tear.

His voice softened, but it remained friendly and bright. He said, “I’m Togata Mirio.”

You told him your name in a steadily weakening voice, but you were unable to stop yourself from smiling.

“It’s so nice to finally know you.” He said your name, and your heart leapt. “Will you tell me what’s gotcha down? Please?”

You told him about your failed practice test. About all the time you spent with a tutor and cram school and studying. You told him about your parent’s dreams of you going to medical school. Tears came and went. You told him everything. He listened.

“They seem to have some pretty big goals for you,” he said when you were finished. “But what do you want to do?”

Your gaze drifted to the artwork on your arm.

“I like flowers…”

You woke up to your alarm the next morning, your phone on the pillow next to your head. You had talked with Mirio until you fell asleep. He told you about how he wanted to be a hero someday, and his time at the famous UA school. He told you about his friends, and seemed to have a full arsenal of jokes. They were awful, and you loved them.

Sitting up in bed, preparing to greet the day, you instinctively looked down at your arm. It was clean, but there was a fresh sunshine on the back of your hand. It was winking. You snagged a pen from your desk, and added your flower to the back of your wrist. You did your best to make it a sunflower.

Your phone buzzed and pinged a beat later.

Good morning!

A picture followed immediately after. A big million-watt smile taking over his decidedly handsome features. It was as bright as it was genuine.

You quickly typed your reply: